Growing up, we always got our Christmas trees at one of the specialty lots that popped up around town. Then, when I got older and lived on my own, I went to the super market for my tree. So much cheaper!
Mike, on the other hand, grew up Griswold-style. His family would drive an hour and a half to pick out and chop down their own tree. He always said it was so awesome to be in mountains surrounded by snow. I personally think it is more awesome to wear flip flops and not get my hands dirty. I’m a city girl!
When Mike’s sister and brother in law said they were going to a pick and cut Christmas farm, Mike immediately said he wanted to go along. I said, “they HAVE those in Los Angeles?!”
“Well,” I thought, “at least I can wear a tank top and flip flops on this excursion.” And then it rained all morning. Grrr.
We arrived at the lot and I had to admit it was pretty to see the rows and rows of trees.
Mike had a perma-grin
and loved showing Annie all the trees.
My nephews loved turning everything they found into weapons toys.
I liked the sweet baby trees:
Then it started to rain. City Girl was not happy.
Luckily for everyone, it didn’t rain much or for long. Annie was especially happy about this because that meant she was able to get out of her stroller and see things from different perspectives.
We eventually found their perfect tree, and the boys assisted in the sawing.
When it was time for the tree to fall, the boys yelled TIMBER!!!!! and Monica “caught” the tree.
So my verdict? It was a neat experience. But just like I don’t go out and butcher my own cow, in the future I will let someone else chop down my tree. What can I say, I’m lazy.
Brighter side? Annie snuggles!